At about seven years old at school, I was going to wash my hands in the rest room sink, a long stone like thing with multiple faucets, and a long wood step stool in front. The person at a nearby faucet is finished. I just start to lean in when she turns towards me, and her head smashes into the front side of my face. I saw stars, but don't remember passing out or loosing any teeth. I didn't expect her to turn that way. She didn't plan for anyone behind or beside her. She was very angry, accusing me of hitting her. At her angle, it wasn't possible for her to see that she actually hit me by accident. The impact came as quite a Wham! Not her fault or mine. Yet, her mother made a big deal out of it. Needless to say, my mother also had her say.
Life gave me a large nose with a bump, and after that, a crooked nose with a bump. On my pillow I would look thinking how much it looks like a horse lying down. So I called it Horse. Going through childhood with a large broken nose isn't fun. A kid once told me he, "Got use to it (my nose)."
As a teenager, Broken Horse and a softball reached an impasse. The break was set in the doctor's office because I was afraid of hospitals. Mother left the room when the cracking begins as the doctor puts it back together. Hearing that cracking crack crack on top of having cotton stuffed up your nose and seeing needles go into your eye sockets when you are fully awake is a survival experience that gives new meaning to the phrase...Never again.
With the bandages off, as I was opening a drawer under the lid to the bureau desk, it fell right on the bump for break number three. Dented Broken Horse. My brother offered to pay for a rhinoplasty, and insurance would have paid some, but the doctor's office was too fresh in my mind. I refused to have the damage fixed until about 1979. Our insurance company after reviewing the doctor's report, decided its mainly reconstructive surgery, and thus would pay more than half. I didn't have it done.
Being made fun of was part of growing up. Its what we kids did to each other. Nobody was immune from nicknames, being chased and/or laughed at. When I was a young adult, a chum once told me that for the nose I have, my boyfriends are good looking. In other words, I'm too critical of myself. Of course the biggest words I hear are...for the nose I have. Meh. Maybe some day I'll consider the procedure (after reading nose cartilage doesn't stop growing). Ah, he joys of aging.
Going through photographs to paint from, these leaning trees remind me of Horse, and how together we bend with life. I won't paint my nose, but I will paint these trees on watercolor paper.